dar'manda
by nite0wl29
Summary: After abandoning his training to become a Jedi, Ben Solo thinks he's more than ready to take on life as a smuggler with his father Han Solo. Not only does the pair become entangled in First Order secrets, but how does a young smuggler deal when he's also bound by the force to the daughter of the galaxy's most notorious bounty hunter? Not to mention she was also hired to kill him.
1. Chapter 1

_Dead_.

He had to have been dead.

Dead and buried in a sand dune on the sultry desert world Tatooine; ironically, the very world where Ben's heritage had risen many years before the Galactic Empire reigned. The initial thought of his life ending at the root of the cursed Skywalker bloodline seemed poetic.

As morbid as it was to think, he found that a bit amusing.

Truthfully though, nothing could ever properly explain how he was feeling without sounding more like a pathetic damsel in distress. But feeling like _death_ was far more fitting than saying he was simply feeling the typical side effects of a massive hangover.

His skull was throbbing, immensely; like he had been trampled over and over and over again by a ronto on Mos Eisley's sand-covered road after one too many Kamikaze shots. Or perhaps he'd faced the butt-end of a blaster, which wouldn't have been the first time for him either.

_Kriff! _How much did he drink at that wretched hive?

The last thing he remembered when Han, himself, and his father's lifelong Wookiee friend Chewbacca made a pit stop on the desert planet the night before, was strolling inside Mos Eisley's one and only cantina and sharing drinks with a rather attractive twi'lek. Everything thereafter made his guess as good as anyone's who was absent then.

Now, back to the present, his ears perked at the faint sound of an engine purring. _A ship. _Somehow, he'd ended up on a ship, and was likely cruising the frigid, stellar depths of hyperspace.

He dared not say that the perilous life of a scoundrel must've finally caught up with him, but it would be foolish to think there wasn't a prize on his head _somewhere _in the galaxy. Han Solo was certainly guilty of bearing his own share of unpaid debt, and being in the mere presence of his father for seven years had surely earned Ben a certified mark on his back.

After a few moments of heavily contemplating whether or not his inebriated mind could concentrate on the Force and pry the minds of those onboard the vessel, Ben slowly opened his eyes and saw the familiar, flesh-color pad lining the bunk he was in. Through his peripheral, the Millennium Falcon's dim lighting was shining upon the vessel's otherwise vacant crew quarters.

_Oh…_

Relieved that he hadn't become a marauder's captive, after all, Ben sighed as he drew a forearm up and covered his eyes, the other arm draping casually across his sternum. _You wanted this life_, he reminded himself; did so every time he woke up tankered from yet another rowdy evening at a hole-in-the-wall bar on whatever planet they were visiting.

However, the thought of what _could _have been had he stayed under the tutelage of his uncle was always a hairbreadth apart from his conscience. Most often than not, he spent what few waking spare minutes there was in his day going over how differently his life might have panned out had he not asked Han for help.

"_Luke can help you, Ben," Leia said in a voice of utmost assurance. Taking the small hands of a nine-year-old Ben Solo into hers, she crouched before him on a moss-covered stone step in front of Luke's training temple on Yavin lV. Even at that age, his lanky frame towered above her. "Promise me you'll listen and do as he says."_

_Ben wanted to say that he agreed, wanted to be the good son who obeyed his mother's every word and give her an overly enthusiastic nod with a yes. But he wasn't a normal child, not even an ordinary Force wielder who was drawn to either the light or the dark side of the Force. Being ordinary meant he knew whether he wanted the role as Jedi or a Sith. _

_No, deep inside, Ben wanted both. _

_Like a moth was to a flame, he was drawn toward the light, and the other was something far more frightening, almost predatorial, that craved the dark. This deep, broiling emotion inside him was begging to be free of its chains and lash out at those who continuously refused to truly understand his inner struggle. Something that desired more than just screaming and throwing the usual childish tantrum: it wanted to kill. Wanted the enjoyment of watching the life of another drain at the mercy of his own grip. _

_It absolutely terrified him. _

_Only in his dreams was Ben able to experience that particular indulgence; except, in these dreams, it was like he was living them through the eyes of someone else. Someone who was taller, draped in black, face concealed by an apparatus that also aided his breathing, his fist balled tight around the lightsaber hilt with a crimson blade. _

_A monster, who killed both old and young indiscriminately. _

_Would Luke be able to help keep those nightmares at bay? Could he help Ben live comfortably in his own skin without completely succumbing to the darkness as his grandfather Anakin Skywalker once did? To help him not become some raging, killing machine and find a way to coexist within both sides? _

_To find balance?_

"_Yes," Ben mumbled. It was a blatant lie because his head traitorously shook no. While the act was fleeting, the accidental blip in motion wasn't disregarded by his mother's observant eye. Ever the bureaucratic sort, she granted him the look. _

'_That look.' _

_The look that easily made the largest of men in an array of species across the galaxy feel small in contrast to the petite Leia Organa-Solo. But not Ben, he remained tall. "Ben." _

"_Leia," Han breathed, his tone laced with worry. Hearing his father's gruff voice cutting the tension was almost soothing. Unlike his mother, his father had made it clear that he was against sending his son away to practice some hokey religion ever since Ben had begun exhibiting signs of being Force-sensitive. It was but one of many, many reasons why the pair was constantly at odds._

_Sighing and maintaining her grasp on his hands still, Leia rose to mid-height and pressed a firm kiss to Ben's forehead. "Be good," she asserted in a softer tone, then took a step back and met his gaze. "I love you, you know that right?"_

_Leia may have been a lot of things, but a liar wasn't among her list of faults. She was strong. Proud, maybe too proud for her own self good. A master at disguising weakness under a thick slab of strengths. Ben knew though, better than anyone who had ever had the pleasure of knowing Leia over the years. Her churning emotions played like thunder in his ears when he gave the slightest nudge against her mind through the Force; whether she felt it or not, she never made it known. _

"_I know," Ben nodded, eyes trained on his mother's dainty fingers clutching his. She squeezed them gently before begrudgingly releasing the hands that wanted nothing more than to reach for her again, while he begged her to not leave him. _

_But his hands stayed by his sides, clenched._

_Soon it was Han standing in his mother's place while Leia delivered what final words she had for her brother. Han was never good at saying goodbyes, but he always said or did something that made circumstances slightly less awkward. He'd mumble something along the lines of 'see ya later kid,' give Ben's cheek a pinch or rumple his raven hair a tad. That was generally the last Ben would hear from his father for months, as Han went about doing what he did best in life: smuggling. _

_This time, Han took him by surprise when his father nervously handed Ben a cylindrical-shaped device that was no bigger than his hand itself. Brows furrowed, he stared quizzically at the small communication device as a smirk crept over the stubble on Han's face. _

"_If you're ever in trouble, kid, you know how to get a hold of me." Taking a step back from Ben, Han glanced over his shoulder towards his wife, and again at his son. His smile faded, a finger sternly aimed at him as his father said, "And whatever you do - do not tell your mother."_

* * *

Six years.

For six years, Ben hid his father's comlink among a few personal belongings he was permitted to bring to the temple from his homeworld Chandrila. For six years, he held onto his mother's promising outlook that Luke would help him. And for six, long years, Leia was proven wrong.

As his abilities in the Force continued getting stronger, Ben's nightmares grew exceedingly worse. Whenever he woke from a sound sleep, his forehead and chest bathed in perspiration, he could no longer distinguish what was real and what wasn't. He saw the horror in his victims' eyes long after he'd opened his own, and sometimes he still heard their voices shouting for help, frantically seeking aid that never showed. Those whom he recognized in the latest were the faces of fellow students'.

Ben was afraid.

Afraid of the unbridled fury should the monster dwelling inside him ever succeed in exterminating his light completely. Afraid of the moment should he ever lose self-control and let the darkness claim him. Afraid of the day when he no longer called himself Ben Solo.

Fortuitously, that day never came.

Seven years later, at the age of twenty-two, the evening Han dropped everything and came to his rescue without so much as asking a single _why_ was still vivid in Ben's memory. No amount of booze could ever blur that one phrase his father had said to him after he'd seated himself in the Falcon's co-pilot seat: "Hey, it's gonna be you and me, kid. Whole damn galaxy against us, but I'll always keep us going in the right direction; even if we zigzag a bit to get there."

_That _\- was the best damn thing he'd heard his father say.

Following Han on his adventures wasn't necessarily the poorest choice Ben had made in his life. The job certainly held a positive number of perks as it did its share of cons. But what was undeniably best in terms of not regretting it overall, was simply for the fact that he wasn't constantly thinking about the Force - and by doing so, that inner beast was ostensibly lulled to sleep.

Frankly, boredom rarely ever found Ben since he came aboard with his father and Chewy. If he wasn't helping his father swindle their way out of one seedy condition after another, he was helping the Wookiee with frequent upkeep work on the Falcon: it really was quite the bucket of bolts. Save for the NN-14 blaster and lightsaber holstered at his waist, he had also learned how to depend more on basic instincts whenever the going got troublesome, and he only called upon the Force if conditions were deemed fit for its use.

So why was putting forth that better sense of judgment in every aspect of this new life such a hard concept for him to accomplish? Then, next time he planned on getting plastered in Mos Eisley, perhaps he would think twice before making himself suffer another kriffen hangover.

A short tremor abruptly rocked the Falcon just then, a sign they were no longer traveling hyperspace. Curious as to which planet Han was taking them to next, Ben groaned as he _very slowly _climbed out of the extremely narrow bunk. He regretted it instantly.

_Gods, this is gonna be a very long day…_

Wincing, eyes creased to where he was peering through his eyelashes, Ben stumbled across the lounge area towards the cockpit. He nearly clashed with the wall of brown carpet in the round corridor had he not heard the Wookiee's large footsteps clomping over the vessel's sleek flooring.

Affably, Chewbacca quietly roared his greeting.

Ben smirked, a hand splayed on the corridor wall for stability. "Yeah. I feel like it too."

Chewy grunted shortly in response. Ben wasn't as amused. "Nice," he scowled. An undesired warmth crawled over his ears and cheeks at the notion that the entire city of Mos Eisley had seen him strewn over the Wookiee's shoulder. He hoped he was joking. "Next time, though, just let me walk it off."

Chewy shrugged, nodding in a way that made him look like a bobblehead on a dashboard. Ben puffed out a 'thanks' as the hand pressed to the wall dropped to his side, and he proceeded to walk past Chewy. The Wookiee made him halt in place with a furry paw on Ben's shoulder, concern in his tone as Chewy grunted an observation.

Ben scoffed as the Wookiee began treading towards the opposing end of the circular hall. "Wait, what?" He called after his friend in confusion. "Put bacta on my mating bite, what are y-." Rolling his eyes, the sentence died before the words even managed to touch his lips.

"A hickey _isn't_ a mating bite_,_ fuzzball," Ben grumbled, massaging a hand over the blemish on his neck. Chewy grunted something that was along the lines of 'Oh, whatever' in Shyriiwook from down the hall.

Not that he was ashamed for getting a bit handsy, apparently, with the twi'lek - or had it been someone else that he'd talked to at the renowned cantina? It was a completely normal mark to receive whenever kissing got a bit heated between two full-grown adults for kriff sakes. But for once in his life, he wondered if was possible to meet a woman who wasn't so easily forgettable.

Someone who made his heart flutter whenever he thought of her. Someone who wouldn't take that part of himself he'd been saving for granted. Someone who loved him despite knowing of the baggage he carried.

Love just didn't come easy for someone who was regularly on the move in a very large galaxy...

Stalking towards the cockpit, he considered passing the hickey off as a bruise he'd earned in a drunken bar skirmish. It would be one less thing he'd need to explain when it appeared that Han already had a lot on his mind. Lost in a daze, the veteran smuggler gazed out of the Falcon's foreport at the surmount of evergreen forests that emerged beyond dissipating stratus clouds. Riverbanks serpentining along Takodana's lush terrain ran straight into the mouths of lakes at a colossal size, their surfaces dazzling under harsh sun rays like shimmering meadows of untainted kyber.

"Takodana," Ben mused, claiming the available co-pilot's seat alongside his father.

A beat of silence followed before a feeble _yep _slipped past Han's halfway parted lips. Sparing a glimpse at his son, the smuggler's upper lip quirked as he granted him a soft grunt. Ben knew right away what had sparked his father's amusement.

"Don't ask."

Smirking, Han shook his head, a brow raised at rapidly passing landscape. "Can't say that I was desperate to."

"Good." The cockpit descended into companionable silence as Maz Kanata's ancient stone castle came into view amongst the ocean of green. Ben huffed exasperatedly. "Another bar, huh? If I hadn't known any better I'd say you were trying to kill me or somethin."

"You've got a lot to learn, kid. If you haven't realized yet there's more to this life than drinking on every backwater world."

"That's fair, I guess," Ben conceded, biting his bottom lip. "So, if we're not here for play then what sort of business deal are we talking?"

Han's mouth opened to speak but wound up closing instantly. There as a brief lapse in time before he repeated the motion again. And again moments after. It was while he carefully drove the vessel towards a barren patch of land east of the castle when Han finally spoke. "Your mother's."

Ben found it difficult to respond after that. Or to even breathe, for that matter. Not only had he not seen his mother in years, but he also hadn't spoken to her since a week before fleeing Luke's temple.

Was it shame holding him back from reaching out to her? Or dread that he hadn't lived up to her expectations as son of a senator?

"Is she…?" _Is she here, _were the terms he had meant to say but failed miserably at doing.

Han shook his head, mindlessly sliding his hand across a console of switches and levers to power down the Falcon. "No," he affirmed. Squaring his shoulders, Han stood from the seat and turned towards Ben, brows knitted at the center. "Just said who we're meeting is someone whom she trusts with her life," he shrugged.

Ben swallowed. "Did she say why?"

"No," he sighed, jerking his head for Ben to follow. "But we'll be finding out soon enough. Chewy!" Han bellowed once they were in the corridor leading towards the main entrance hatch. "Hang tight around here, alright!"

Chewy's roar resonated from a far-off chamber inside the vessel. Likely busy with the general maintenance routine, Ben supposed.

"Hopefully this won't take long," Han declared sullenly, his accompanying sigh was suppressed by the hissing of hydraulics as the gangplank lowered to the planet's emerald turf.

Wearing a frown of disapproval, Ben lifted a hand above his sensitive eyes to reduce the damaging effects of the sun blazing down on the large hunk of steel under their boots. While doing so he was unwittingly stopped short in his tracks as he walked into Han's frozen figure, eliciting an _oomph _from his chest_. _

Ben grimaced at his father's back, who had only moved an inch or so after the accidental collision. "What the hell? Why did you sto-."

The reprimand ended there when Ben was able to track his father's stare to an army green Firespray-31-class patrol and attack craft with a painted scarlet base, weathered yet heavily armed with a hefty set of GN-40 twin blaster cannons. A ship that inspired fear in the eyes of any sentient who was unfortunate to have crossed paths with its sole owner: a man whose helmet bore a T-shaped visor, clad in Mandalorian armor. For decades, the craft was a symbol of death. Chaos and destruction built with wings. The point of no return for anyone who was seized and imprisoned behind its iron cell bars.

However…

Those who were looking to pay a hefty sum for the acquisition of a bounty, dead or alive, never hesitated to call upon Slave 1.


	2. Chapter 2

For over the course of a thousand years, Maz Kanata had welcomed travelers ranging from all walks of life to her castle off the shore of Nymeve Lake on Takodana. Every visitor was treated to the quirky rhythm and blues of a live band and offered an array of exotic foods with a wide assortment of brew on tap.

Droids, pirates, bounty hunters—the castle was a common ground where both hunters and the hunted mingled in a stringent _'No violence' _atmosphere. Those merely seeking shelter were accommodated for a single night's hospitality; which was mostly individuals with dead or alive prices to their heads.

However, for others passing through, the castle was simply home away from home.

Just as the sun breached the eastern skyline, Rey woke on a cot inside one of the castle's smaller rooms that Maz reserved for her. Per her usual request whenever she visited Maz's castle, the room facing Nymeve Lake promised a striking view of vibrant pinks and oranges bleeding with the heavens' natural blue, and the crystal clear waters below provided a stunning mirror-reflection of its beauty.

Aside from a cot that was anything but pleasant to sleep on, there was a wooden footstool Rey had used as a perch for her helmet, the twin Westar 35 blaster pistols and smaller weapons she kept on her person - for safe keeps.

Typically, when in transit from one destination to the next through hyperspace, she would set the autopilot controls and kick back in the pilot seat of her ship Slave 1 for a quick snooze. Being a highly sought after bounty hunter meant she was always on the go. Staying in a room with bare-minimum furnishings was equivalent to staying at a luxury hotel on the city planet of Coruscant—and she could've done just that if she had wanted to. She had more than enough credits stashed away inside the ship's one of many hidden compartments to afford all of life's lavish pleasures.

But, in a way, though, Takodana reminded her of home. While Takodana's forested palette was vastly different than the jungles and agricultural land on Concord Dawn, there was a sense of familiarity that connected this temporary environment in the Middle Rim to that of her youth in the far outskirts of space.

Drawing a breath of fresh air as a soft breeze drifted through a lone window inside her quarters, Rey sat up and swung her legs over the bed's canvas ledge, her boots firmly planted to the stone floor beneath their rubber soles. Where there should have been a dash of zest and sweetness lingering in the air she could only smell centuries' worth of grime wafting through layers of rock. Her compulsion for wanting to pause and listen for the sound of cashews being ground in a modest sized kitchen shortly down the hallway was a habit she'd never been able to break.

Instead of hearing her mother prepping what ingredients were required to make her father's favorite traditional Mandalorian dessert uj'alayi, there was only the steady song of her pulse. Regardless of how disgustingly sweet the pastry was, Rey would have given anything to taste that hearty mixture of dried fruits and spices smothered underneath tooth-rotting syrup.

And she'd happily barter every last credit attached to her name if it meant she would get to spend another minute with her parents again: particularly her father. Throughout the prime of the Galactic Empire, Boba Fett was notoriously the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy among smugglers.

But to Rey, he was her hero; to him, she was always _ad'ika_.

_Rey was the little girl who sat upon the top step of the stairway outside the entrance to the Fetts' bungalow every day after school. The little girl who'd rather practice her marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat skills than play make-believe scenarios with dolls, like other girls her age. The girl who fancied getting her hands dirty and winding up to her neck in ship grease and aviation fluid than fussing about conventional feminine hygiene. _

_Her mother, Sintas Vel, a retired bounty hunter much like her husband, had most often failed at succeeding to persuade nine-year-old Rey to come indoors for dinner before her father arrived back home from work, now as a Journeyman Protector of Concord Dawn under the alias Jester Mereel. _

_And it wasn't till she'd finally caught sight of the Fetts' landspeeder beyond the high-rising rows of grain at the forefront of the plantation when she made an effort to leave her spot. She could almost predict the exact question he would ask her the moment he exited the speeder, it'd come down to the very same routine between the two of them since the day she started grade school. _

"_First thing's first," Fett began, the navy, silver-trimmed Mandalorian helmet still in place on his head modulated his gruff voice. His glove-concealed hands reached up to remove it as the conversation progressed. "How was school?"_

_This was when she normally replied with 'just peachy,' or sometimes it was just plain and simple 'peachy.' Apparently, she'd inherited her father's inability to speak beyond 3-word sentences at times. That's what her mother said, anyway. But today's story required a bit more use of the 26-letter alphabet. _

_Worrying the sandy-colored linen of her tunic between her fingers, Rey quietly trailed alongside him, scuffing her boots in the dirt during their slow strides back to the house. She waited until his helmet was off before she answered. It was easier to judge his initial reaction that way when it was a topic that would likely end with one of two very different outcomes: ground her or applaud her for living up to the reputable last name._

"_Other than the thousand-word essay I have to write explaining why it's not okay to push my peers around, peachy," she finished shrugging as if it were precisely that. _

_Simply peachy._

_Concurrently, father and daughter paused in their tracks. Reluctant a tad, Rey lifted her chin, and her hazel eyes connected with his weary brown. The chrome-plated, armor crafted of Mandalore's finest (and strongest) beskar metal covering his chest reflected the blazing rays of the sun, highlighting his neutral face and its impressive number of scars; each unique in its tale as to how it came to be on Fett's naturally-bronzed skin. _

"_Reyna." _

"_Yes, father?" She bristled, laying her ignorance of the matter on thick._

_Rey was perhaps the only person, other than her mother, of course, in the entire galaxy who was aware of the compassion and love that Boba Fett retained. Beneath the iron-clad figure before her was a man who she often saw struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy following a life of constant violence. As if she was able to sense that inner conflict of his, every day she made it a priority to somehow be that light in his universe-a light so powerful it was capable of anchoring that shadow of his former self in the past. _

_Most often than not, it got the job done._

"_We've been over this before, ad'ika," he sighed, nonetheless pleased at the news. "Over and over..."_

"_I know," Rey huffed as her lanky arms crossed over her small chest. "But he asked for it."_

_Fett's head cocked, an eyebrow quirked. "How so?"_

_Rey scrunched her nose at the remark she'd received earlier in the day regarding her latest hairstyle-—bobbed, with longer locks framing pudgy cheeks. "He said that my short hair made me look like a boy now."_

_And to a girl who hadn't reached puberty yet, such commentary was like saying the world was ending tomorrow. Her father, however, was unaffected by her response and remained steeled in his expression._

"_Tell me somethin'." Momentarily his eyes darted to the horizon in thought. "This boy-what were you wanting in return?"_

_Rey scoffed. "Respect?" _

_He nodded then as if to agree. "And do you think savages are deserving of respect?"_

_Eyes broader than the circumference of a harvest moon, she couldn't help but gasp at the sneer. "What? I'm not a sa-."_

"_You had a choice, Reyna." Gone was all nicety in her father's tone. Clamping her mouth shut, Rey bit the inside of her lip as he took a step closer to her. With the hand free of his helmet, he jabbed a finger once at her shoulder without ever making contact. "And you chose physical force-push, shove, violence is all the same no matter how you choose to word it. Utilizing words for words though doesn't make the fight any less effective. Neither does it make you weak." Rey held her breath as he hesitated and swallowed. His voice proceeded then to soften. "Do you understand?"_

_Rey bowed her head curtly, blinking. "Elek, buir."_

"_Jate," he grimaced, nodding also. "Demanding respect through absolute force is but a coward's way of taking esteem that he hasn't earned, ad'ika." Assuringly, he lifted the hand that scolded her and clasped her shoulder lightly, eyes trained on hers as he spoke. "You can not take it; you earn it. No daughter of mine will ever be raised a coward. She will be strong. And a leader." To prove his next point furthermore, her father raised his helmet and pressed the dome of the headpiece to her chest. "And she will wear her armor with honor, as a true Mandalorian should."_

_Rey held her father's stare as the words began to sink in. And for the first time, she understood. He hadn't earned the label as the most feared and respected hunter in the galaxy for no apparent reason. She wanted to be as strong as him in both body and mind, too. Releasing the loose hold on her tunic she accepted the helmet from his grasp, her eyes fell from him to see her own reflection staring back in its visor. She imagined the day when she had Mandalorian armor of her own, crafted by her own pair of hands, and pouring every ounce of herself into making it hers. _

_And she would wear the emblem of Clan Fett with pride. _

"_Whenever that will be," she grumbled within a sigh. _

"_Whenever you decide it's time to grow up, ad'ika." He gave her shoulder a squeeze before he pulled away. "And as for the kid, if he ever calls you a boy again-tell him that Boba Fett says he can kriff off."_

_Eyes widening in surprise this time, she looked up at him and laughed. She saw what she could have sworn was the hint of a smile tugging at a corner of his mouth as he took a sidestep towards the house. _

"_Don't tell your mother that."_

* * *

Twelve years later, Rey could still remember the exact words her father had said to her that day: it was the last discussion they ever shared—before the attack came. Before she had to watch everything around her rupture into flames and disintegrate to ash. Before she was forced to become an adult instead of living out those years of adolescence remaining, with a family whom she cherished more than anything else in the world.

And before she was left completely and utterly _alone_.

All that remained of her life on Concord Dawn was the knowledge and wisdom her father had branded inside her memory. And among those few possessions that endured was her father's ship Slave 1. _They should have destroyed that, too,_ she had most often thought.

Slave 1 had served her well when the moment to enact on that yearning for revenge arrived. That moment when she had the man responsible for her parents' deaths wishing he had killed Boba Fett's daughter, too. Rey was fifteen when she took her first life, and not once did she ever assume he had family or a life that he was leaving behind. There was only this incredible-almost liberating-emotion welling inside her when justice for her own loss was served. And she never looked back on her decision to pursue the precarious life of a bounty hunter, like her father.

But now…

Furrowing her brows at the signature T-shaped visor of her helmet, Rey couldn't help but now question the choices she'd made. She wondered what her father would have to say if he were still alive. Would he be proud of the young woman his little girl had become? Would he find her worthy of the ivory armor with accents in mahogany that she'd crafted herself?

Tucking the helmet safely underneath the crook of her arm, so many what-ifs began flashing through her mind as she strode quietly down the dusky corridor towards a downward-spiraling stairwell, and yet she knew the answers would always be a mystery.

Her parents were gone. Her father-_her mentor_-was gone.

Other than the company of her own shadow, Rey had accepted the cold, bitter truth long ago that she would forever and always be alone. _Such as the life of a bounty hunter_, she supposed. What happened to her family was a solid indicator that bounty hunting and domesticated life could never coincide.

Well, at least, when she was in the presence of Maz Kanata, she wasn't alone.

Taking her last step from the stairway and into the bustling tavern, Rey spotted the little woman almost instantly amongst the ruckus and vapors of early bird travelers. Keenly aware of silence flourishing at the back of the bar as occupants began to take notice of the only person in the room who was dressed in Mandalorian armor, Maz greeted Rey as the Mando purposely claimed a seat at an isolated corner table.

"Maz," Rey nodded as the woman approached, placing her helmet down on the table in front of her with a sigh.

"Good morning, child." A diminutive smile spread underneath the pair of oversized specs on Maz's face. "Sleep well, I hope?"

Setting her arms on the table and automatically threading her fingers, Rey shrugged her shoulders. "Peachy."

Maz's smirk widened. "You Fetts always were such sparkling conversationalists," she stated blithely, a trace of sarcasm in her tone. "You're more and more like your father every time I see you."

Knowing that Maz was always rather fond of her father should've made the compliment easier to accept; however, she found that even the assurance of a lifelong family acquaintance still hadn't been enough to ease her doubt. Thankfully, the pitiful smile making a single corner of her mouth curve was enough encouragement for Maz to continue with the seemingly one-sided conversation. "Anyhow, I know you're a busy gal these days. Would you care to have something to eat before you go?"

_Now that was a question she could definitely answer. _"Sure."

"Picky?"

Bottom lip puckered slightly, Rey's head shook no. "Surprise me."

Giving the bounty hunter a grunt in satisfaction, Maz turned on a heel and strode over towards an area in the tavern that was partially hidden by a stone barrier. Minding the gauntlets covering her forearms, Rey crossed her arms over her abdomen and made herself comfortable on the wooden chair, waiting patiently for Maz to reappear. Minutes later, she saw the little woman reemerge carrying a squared platter with a mug of freshly-brewed caf, a bowl of warm porridge, and a saucer packed with a meager assortment of fruit.

"Nothing grand that an inn would've served you," Maz lightly stressed, placing the tray of sustenance on the table directly in front of her guest. "But it'll hold you til afternoon at least."

Rey smiled appreciatively. "Thanks," she murmured in a voice that barely struck above a whisper. Straightening her spine in the chair, she extended a gloved hand for the cup of caf.

"Off to anywhere special today?" Maz asked as she sat down in the empty seat opposite of the young Mando.

Rey shook her head _no _at the dark liquid that filled the cup between her palms. "Not really," she replied after a beat prior to taking a sip of its content. Her body sighed the second she tasted the caf's bitter yet sweetly enhanced flavor. "Wherever duty beckons me, I guess."

"Could hire you to stick around here full-time and help with some of these goons if you'd like," Maz suggested, casting her thumb over a shoulder to a random circle of patrons. Here it was, shortly after sunrise, and they were clearly three sheets to the wind: if their boisterous cheers and wobbly forms while standing in place was any indication.

Rey stifled a snort as she lifted a brow in their direction. "Giving you trouble already, huh?"

Maz rolled her eyes. "Nothing other than the usual riff-raff that comes from having to deal with every moof-milker in the galaxy under the same roof. It was always great whenever your father visited back in the day," she chuckled. "Nobody ever dared to stir up problems then."

Rey could only offer Maz a nod in response as she leaned over the table to exchange her caf for a handful of colorful fruit. It'd been years since she felt the need to cry at the mentioning of her parents. Now was one of those times where she just wanted to cave and let the dam behind her eyes break loose. A companionable silence was shared before Maz attempted to speak again. Rey blinked away the tears in her eyes before the other woman had a chance to notice.

"It is awfully weird, though," Maz hummed in a voice that sounded unusually despondent than normal. "Don't you think?"

Frowning, Rey lifted her eyes from the plate of fruit, noting the knowing expression growing on the elderly woman's face. "What's weird?"

Maz folded one arm over the other on the table. "How it's possible that the only man who survived the Pit of Carkoon was killed so easily by an amateur hunter."

Rey groaned as if meaning to say that the answer was blatantly obvious. "It's precisely how the old saying goes, Maz," she sneered, shoving a plump grape into her mouth. "There's always bigger and better fish in the sea."

Maz shook her head. "Rey," she began cryptically, "mah oear bukee..."

Before Maz had a chance to enlighten more on the notion, there was a sudden loud crash that sounded like glassware smashing against the castle's stone floor rising from somewhere at the back of the tavern. While Maz looked severely agitated by the interruption, Rey couldn't help but feel relieved.

"Never mind," Maz grumbled as she rose from her seat. Pointing a finger at Rey, she turned and took a step in the same direction as the fight. "Hold that thought."

The tavern was surprisingly busier now than it was when Rey arrived earlier that morning. With her eyes only, the bounty hunter followed Maz for a short distance as the elder determinedly wove in and out of the swarm of bodies before Rey lost track of her host completely.

That was when she felt it.

A peculiar sense that she had gained the unwarranted attention of someone else inside the tavern. Though what surprised her was that it wasn't the slightest bit alarming. Whoever was watching her seemed curious and—something else that she didn't quite understand.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have ever prepared her for the sense that her lungs had been completely siphoned and drained of oxygen when her eyes finally landed on _his. _


	3. Chapter 3

Han never did explain why the Firespray had made him pause. But for a highly sensitive force-user, an explanation wasn't exactly necessary. Ben felt every bit of his father's trepidation as if the fear were his own, billowing in the breeze between the pair while they walked to the entrance of Maz's castle. And Han's face was still as white as a ghost.

Very seldom did Ben have the urge to pick his father's thoughts using the Force, knowing Han wasn't keen on the sole, mystic energy that binds good and evil in the universe. But—_kriff! _The sirens blaring inside his head were downright maddening!

Over the years, Ben had become an expert at reading the minds of others. Depending on how far he wanted to probe the brain's structure, it could sometimes be unpleasant for the person on the receiving end. Other times, his presence in their head was hardly detectable; sort of like brushing the skin's surface with the delicate tip of a feather.

Ben barely grazed his father's mind when he caught the name of a certain bounty hunter: one he had heard about roughly a handful of times in his life. A lethal hunter whose late father, Jango Fett, made up the entire clone army in genetics during the Galactic Republic, the catalyst of the Jedi Order and democracy's downfall. Over and over, the name _Boba Fett_ played like a broken holo-vid, permanently set on repeat.

"He a friend of yours?" Ben nonchalantly asked Han, as if it weren't blatant that he'd just read his father's thoughts. His father, though, never missed a beat, and quickly caught on to what his son had done.

"I hate it when you do that," Han grumbled out of a corner of his mouth.

"Kinda hard to ignore," Ben asserted. "You might as well have been screaming the name in my ear."

"Right," Han grunted. "Telepathy...still haven't gotten used to that," he sighed. "But, no—more of an acquaintance who I met through your grandfather once."

Ben scoffed. "So there's history, then."

"You could say that." Raising his chin as they passed through the castle's courtyard, Han's eyes narrowed at the rows of flags strung above: specifically, the red banner bearing the image of a Mandalorian mythosaur skull. "Funny thing is—the last I remember was him becoming Sarlacc grub."

Being the one to smirk this time, Ben cast a glance to his father. The guilt plastered on his father's features was more than telling that he was responsible for Fett taking the plunge into the belly of the sand creature on Tatooine. "No thanks to you, I presume," he accused. In turn, the pained grimace Han displayed abruptly turned smug.

"Alright," Ben breathed, combing a hand through his hair. "So, let's say perhaps Fett _did _manage to survive the impossible…" Pinching his lips, he warily looked at Han. "How probable is it that he'll want revenge?"

The fleeting silence on Han's behalf as his father reached for the door handle of the castle's main entrance was all Ben needed to hear. "The truth?" Han countered, his brows wrinkled with uncertainty. "Pray that he's dead."

Ben huffed. "I figured," he dryly tisked through his teeth. The snark was disregarded as his words were promptly absorbed by rhythmic tunes when Han opened the door. The blend of music and chatter amid a dense crowd of gatherers gave Ben no other option but to speak louder, expressing his next concern. "Any idea what this person looks like that we're supposed to be meeting here?"

Because for all he knew, they could be meeting a Rodian or (Maker forbid) one of those moody, reptilian Trandoshans. And going to a supposed _friendly_ confrontation blind left him feeling somewhat anxious. Just as he'd anticipated beforehand, Han's head shook no.

_Kriff_…

"She only ensured that _he _would know us," he explained. Shifting his weight back on a heel, Han's voice lowered so that his words were exclusively for Ben only. "Might wanna put that mind reading ability of yours to use. Find whoever it is before he finds us."

Ben's eyebrows shot up on his forehead, not believing that Han had actually given him permission to invade another's mind. Maybe his father was beginning to warm up to the Force after all? He nodded, though, so to say he agreed.

"We'll split up. And for kriff sakes," Han began to say as he started to walk away, "don't stare if you happen to come across a Mandalorian in green armor."

* * *

Having the power to mind-read was as much of a blessing as it was a curse. Sure, there were often times where it was a scoundrel's dream come true...For apparent reasons concerning the profession, of course. But as for the rest—not so much.

No matter the tavern he found himself in, there was _always _that male or two whose vile thoughts of committing nefarious acts toward the opposite gender never ceased to arouse his inner demon that was otherwise dormant. It was easier to justify his longing to mingle with darkness that way: it wasn't immoral when one was punishing the wicked where he saw punishment was due.

He'd let himself slide just a smidge further into their minds, enough to administer that sudden dose of pain and avert their attention elsewhere. And seeing how it affected them was ever so delightful each time.

Today, however, there wasn't the usual sadistic humor of the male species when he opened himself to the Force. There was only _her_. The blissful yet sorrowful voice of a faceless stranger derived someplace in the tavern_. _Inexorably, it was the accompanying Force signature that thwarted Ben from his original mission, raw and a bit unsteady circling the edges. Yet at the center was a harmonious balance of light and dark.

Just like _him_.

Relying on senses as his eyes scanned over the crowded bar, Ben found her with Maz Kanata at a secluded table near the back of the tavern. Regarding the ivory armor with mahogany accents adorning her figure, he was surprised to find she was also Mandalorian. Had they not been on opposing sides there, he may have noticed the insignia of a feather-like emblem, the representation of her family clan on her right breastplate.

Maybe he would've understood then why his brain insisted on waving those irritating red flags.

But when she looked at him with that doe-eyed, innocent stare of hers, every background noise withered to a soft, static buzz, and he was hopelessly drawn in under her spell. Hearing her breath hitch in his ears when their eyes met made the gears in his head start turning, and began a descent into darker places.

He _had _to know her. Anything and everything. He longed to know how that pretty mouth of hers tasted; if her lips were sweet as the fruit in her palm or if they were of something far more sinful. Or how she might sound moaning his name as he—.

Wait…_Shit. _If he was able to hear her thoughts, had she just heard his too? She didn't seem to be showing signs that she was aware of his desire for her, just blatantly confused.

_Best to make sure_, he decided.

Clearing his throat and with both hands clasped behind his back, he paced towards the right of her so to not make what he was about to do seem any more suspicious than it likely already appeared. Putting forth additional effort for her to hear him clearly above the ruckus, he nudged a little closer to her mind. _Can you hear me?_

Noting the way she flinched and gave a startled gasp, it suddenly occurred to him then she was uneducated in the abilities that some Jedi possessed. Not only was she untrained, but she was likely unaware of her own powers.

_Interesting_.

She was searching all the wrong places in her vicinity for the voice's owner, causing longer, auburn-colored tresses of her bobbed hair to whip her , did he find that comical. "W-What was that?" she shrieked to the empty seat beside her.

Ben's chuckle garnered her attention, and her previous spooked reaction was now a hard, icy glare. "Rude," she snapped.

_So you can hear me? _He asked, a brow lifting quizzically.

Her hand that was pressed flat on the table coiled into a tight fist. "Get _out _of my head," she hissed.

Oh, charming this one was going to be a challenge, for sure. Unlike most women that he came upon that typically had zero quarrels with parading themselves in his presence—exposed tits and all. But there was something about her spitfire attitude that made him want her more.

Plus, he was fairly enjoying getting a rouse out of her.

_We're gonna have to talk like this if you want me to hear you, _he smirked, even though he had actually heard her loud and clear. He presumed what she didn't know, didn't hurt.

"Get out of my head," she repeated through a snarl, stressing her words with additional emphasis.

_People are gonna deem you crazy if you continue to insist on lecturing yourself over there, _he mused jokingly.

"Is this how you normally pick up women?" she snarked, slumping back in her chair with an annoyed huff.

Ben's smile widened. Feigning interest in a game of Sabaac at a crowded nearby table, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned a shoulder against a wooden support beam. _No_, _just you. _

Having her focus primarily fixed in the direction Maz had sauntered off to earlier, the young Mando's eyes flashed to his again. Her brows furrowed as she studied him intently. _I thought Jedi were forbidden to have attachments_.

Ben was speechless at first. Had she really meant for him to hear that? Regardless, he proceeded to take his chances; whether the odds were in his favor or not. _You're a fast learner. _

Smug, she propped an elbow on the table, leaning her head against her pointer finger. _I do what I must to survive. _

He nodded, sincerely impressed. _What's your name?_

_What—not gonna probe my mind for it Jedi? _A trivial smirk made its way to her lips.

He grinned crookedly. _That I would much rather learn from you._

_If I told you, then I'd have to kill you_, she said with her tongue prodding the inside of her cheek.

Ben winced. _You would kill me knowing nothing about me?_

Seeming indifferent, her shoulders shrugged casually. _In my line of work, it's just easier to assume everyone will betray you at some point. You'll never be disappointed then. _

_Perhaps, _he conceded. _Abiding by that would definitely make my life a helluva lot more simple. Yet here I am, willing to exchange my name for yours._

She chortled tersely. _With that outlook, it's amazing you're still alive. Maybe I shouldn't fret about you knowing my name._

Ben remained unwavering. _Is that a yes, then?_

He sensed her apprehension as the Mando lowered her eyes, averting his gaze. For the first time following the initial spark of the conversation, their minds were flooded by an excruciatingly awkward silence. Finally, she peered at him again after a few moments had passed, lips parted as if meaning to share a deeply kept secret that'd been long since revealed. _I—um…_

"Hey!" Han clapping Ben on the shoulder reeled him back to the boisterous tavern. Blinking from the Mando, he turned his head to see his father standing at his side. "Found our guy. He's got a place for us to speak privately downstairs."

Frowning, Ben spared a glance over where the beautiful, young Mando was sitting, hoping to at least get her name before letting business drag him away. His shoulders sank when he discovered she'd left without a trace.

"Still with me, kid?" Han pressed, not quite bothered by the fact that his son's face now resembled a weeping porg's. "Or you gonna hang out here in the play area while the adults work?"

Disappointed, to say the least, Ben huffed out a breath and shook his head. "Sorry," he scoffed, schooling his thoughts from a girl who he was seemingly destined to meet only once back to the sole reason why they'd come to Takodana. "Yeah, I'm coming."

"Good." Giving Ben's shoulder a few hard pats, Han took a step away before motioning his head for his son to follow. "C'mon, this way."

Han led him to a spiraling stairwell, down to the castle's bottom level to a small room off the main hallway. A spherical-shaped, orange and white astromech droid with a domed head was the first out of two occupants in the room to greet them, stating its name in binary droid lingo as BB-8. The other was a man, who appeared to be roughly the same age as Ben, with curly, russet-colored hair and a prominent five o'clock shadow.

"Ben, this is Poe Dameron," Han affirmed, introducing his son as the two men proceeded to exchange a firm handshake.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice," Poe affirmed. "It took a great deal of convincing from me for Leia to accept that you guys were our best chance for this."

Ben grimaced, as did Han. It was Ben who took the liberty of asking the very same question that both of them were pondering first. "And what would that be?"

Poe shared knowing looks with Han and Ben before his brown orbs landed on the young smuggler's. "I have a proposition for you."


End file.
